


Jerk Bangers

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Look at Me fic, Complete, F/M, Gen, POC!Hermione, family fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione finds herself in a spot of bother and has to discuss her new situation with her parents. But things aren't all they seem with her partner either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heating the oil

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This fic is part of my AU “Look at Me” side-verse. I have a long-suffering anon who requested this story a very long time ago and here it is, in 3 parts. Stay tuned for the rest being posted today. Finally, my Solicitor wanted me to let everyone know that North American No-Maj harmed in the making of this fic. – _DG_

* * *

Hermione walked into the flat and threw her handbag onto the couch. Ron walked in behind her, locking and sealing the door. “Want me to get the Floo, too?”

“I don’t care tonight,” she growled before stalking back to their bedroom. 

“Fine,” he yelled at her retreating back before she slammed the door to their bedroom. 

Hermione retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. It was one of the few rules they had together – when the bathroom door was locked, the other needed some alone time. Ron barely needed it – but lately, for the last 3 months or so, she used it almost daily. 

She sat on the toilet with her head in her hands, forcing down the nausea while painfully recalling dinner earlier tonight. They had tremendous news to share with her parents but everything had gone sideways with them. Whatever idea made her presume that today would be welcomed with joy and glee, not animosity and scorn? Where did she get the idea that their announcement would be met with appreciation, not accusations? 

“Hermione, want some tea?” Ron yelled through the door. 

“Yes, dear. Tea would be lovely,” she choked out and heard his heavy footsteps walking back to their kitchen. 

* * *

“So where are we going,” Ron asked over his stack of parchment on the desk.

“Bamboula, over in Brixon. I’ve been craving some plantain and pumpkin parcels for a week now.” 

“Can’t we make it at home?” 

“The point is that Mum misses food from home so that’s why we’re going there.” 

“Is there anything on the menu that Mum and Dad will like?” 

Hermione busied herself with the laundry on the table. 

“You _did_ invite Mum and Dad, right?” 

She gave Ron a sideways glance and looked back at the folded sheets. “I thought we’d tell your family on Sunday, at Brunch. That way almost everyone will be there and we don’t have it spread like Fiendfyre to the rest.” 

“Hermione, we talked about this.” Ron pointed his quill at her. “We agreed to tell them at the same time, so if there are any problems, we’d be able to have Mum and Dad back us up. You know your Mum will have kittens that we’re having a baby and we’re not married.” 

Hermione dropped the linens on the table and stalked to the kitchen. “And when have we had time to spend months preparing for a bloody wedding?” She groaned. “The moment we announce a wedding, your Mum will bully her way into it, with all these plans I could care less about. Besides, this is the first fortnight in years where you’ve been on a regular schedule. It’s also the first time in over a year I’m not swamped in work, doing studies, or spending every waking minute working on legislation.” She leaned over and ran water over her face. “It’s not like we’ve not had our issues but this was unexpected.” 

“Are you getting worried that your parents will question our choices, considering the change in situation? I mean, we’ve been living together since you finished at Hogwarts. It’s not like you’re barely legal getting up the duff before you’re out of school.” 

“Ron, we agreed that we didn’t need the state approving our arrangement.” 

“I proposed twice and you kept making excuses. I quit asking.” Ron bristled at her comment and walked out. “You decided, Hermione. I went along because I wasn’t willing to lose you.” 

“Because you’d ask at the worst possible times, Ron!” she tried breathing in through her nose and out her mouth to get the nausea quelled. “You asked me two weeks after I finished Hogwarts. I wasn’t ready then.” 

“And the second time, Hermione?” Ron yelled from the bedroom. 

“The second time was when you were leaving on a mission. Had it not been thirty seconds before you were due to leave, and given me time to think, I would have.” She straightened up from the sink, praying that the nausea would leave before they were due at dinner with her parents. “How could I know that you’d be out on a mission almost ten whole months, with little contact?” 

Ron brought a fresh vest for Hermione to wear. “I knew which is why I asked. You didn’t trust me. But we’ve beaten this hippogriff to pieces already.” 

“Is that why you never asked again?” She felt the nausea rolling around her throat but kept fighting it. 

“Yeah, it was.” He rubbed the back of his neck once and settled his hands across his chest. “Then when I did finally get home, you were on your crusade on reforming the ministry to your vision of change and that included your ranting on social issues. I was expecting you to throw me over the side for the whole year I returned. So I didn’t want to upset you.” 

“You didn’t, Ron.” She took the jumper from him. “Your support was why I could do what I’ve done so far and plan to do in the future.” 

“And then you were off on your own business trips and there for about six months, we barely saw one another. Merlin, it’s a wonder we’re at this point.” 

She slid the jumper on and pulled her hair back into an unkempt hairband, letting her natural hair give her necessary inches compared to Ron. The bright orange jumper and brown slacks complimented one another on her slightly heavier frame. 

“And here we are, about to go to dinner to tell my parents that I’m pregnant and still not married.” She sighed. “I wonder who will get upset first, me or Mum.” 

“Mum, without a doubt. But I’m sure your Dad will want to kick my ass for not considering marrying you, given the circumstances.” 

“Nah, that’ll be mum. She’s the traditionalist.” 

“And yet she was the one who proposed to your Dad.” 

“It was either that or be separated permanently.” 

“See? That worked out so well,” Ron cheeked. 

Hermione picked up her purse and heard a distinct rattle inside. “I think the potions are rattling around in there.” 

“Potions? Nevermind.” Ron looked at her non-descript purse. “Is that the replacement to the grotty beaded bag you carried for years?” 

Hermione picked up the leather satchel that fit over her shoulder. “It is. The other got so disgusting that I couldn’t clean it anymore. So I replaced it while you were gone on your last mission. The two outer compartments are normal ones but the middle zipper one is the one I did the charms on.” 

“Brilliant.” Ron checked his pockets on his jacket including his wand in the holster on his arm. “So how are we getting there?” 

“There’s an apparition point a block from the restaurant. Mum and Dad are meeting us there.” She looked at the timepiece on her wrist. “They should be getting there now. We need to leave.” 

Hermione went first out the door and Ron locked up behind her. “So you want to tell them, or shall I?” 

“Together,” she huffed before they went to the alley next to their building and ducked behind the rubbish dumpster. “Hold on and I’ll apparate us there.” 

“You know better than I do,” He muttered before they winked out. 

* * *

Hermione flushed the toilet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The sweet potato fries tasted fine the first time but not the second. Neither did the cod fritters or the jerked snapper on the menu.

“Hermione, open the door, please.” 

She reached up and released the latch before turning towards the sink. 

Ron stepped into their small loo with a cup of tea and some plain crisps. Concern made deep creases on his face for her condition. 

“I think dinner was too spicy and that’s what set me off. Nothing tasted off but –“

“I dunno. Maybe it was that appetizer. It tasted off to me.” 

“That’s jerk sausage. It’s not supposed to taste like Mum’s bangers, love.” She reached past him to get the wet flannel for her face. “I thought a meal from home would have placated Mum. Obviously not,” she spit out bitterly. “Why did I think she’d be accepting of the new situation?” 

“I didn’t mind. I figure it’s a preview of Mum going barmy when we tell her Sunday at brunch. You remember how she reacted when George and Angelina let slip that she was pregnant. I don’t think I could hear a thing the rest of the day after that tirade.” 

Hermione finished washing her face, looking quite ashy in the low watt light. “Maybe she’ll come around in a week or so. I’m sure she’ll call in a day or three to talk, regardless.” 

“And Dad?” 

“I think he’s beastly because you’ve not made an honorable woman out of me.” 

“We’ve been together for years now. Doesn’t he know that you’re content in our current situation and have no desire to run off to get married, just to placate him? Hasn’t he realized that you’re a feminist who doesn’t need a man to complete her? Haven’t you told him that, as you’ve told me, repeatedly?” Ron wrung his fingers suddenly. “We’re partners and equals. I’d never ask you to be anything but who you are. And one of the painfully obvious things is that getting married is bunk.” 

“He still has some expectations, even if he is pretty open-minded.” 

“Well that’s rubbish. We’re together and I’m not going anywhere ‘cept to go get a Butterbeer and listen to the Quidditch match.” 

Ron stalked out, leaving Hermione with her maelstrom of thoughts blazing through her head. 

* * *

“I’ll never turn down a meal from close to home, even if it’s not what my grandmother would make.” Dr. Jean Granger looked much like her daughter in features, but not temperament. She smiled at her husband of 30 years before turning her attention back towards the couple across from them. “Now tell me why you brought us on the other side of the river for a delicious meal instead of our usual haunt.”

“Nothing gets by you, Mrs. Granger.” 

Ron froze when she turned her gaze from her daughter to him. Her green eyes and darker skin made him quite uncomfortable. 

“Don’t toy with me, Ron. Hermione wouldn’t drag you to a hole in the wall, eating curried goat and things I know you can’t stand, just for dinner. No, she’s got something else to tell me and used this meal to butter me up.” She turned back to her daughter and Ron adjusted the collar of his shirt under his jumper. Dr. Robert Granger winked at him and watched the other two stare hard at the other. 

“You’re right. We do have something to tell you.” 

“Is Ron making an honest woman out of you, finally?” Robert piped up first. “I know you said years ago that she was it for you and you for her, but would it really be difficult to exchange vows, or a blessing, or whatever passes for marriage. I mean, I know it’s not a wee thing, all the preparations – “

“That’s not it, dad. We don’t need someone _official_ ,” venom dripped from Hermione’s cold words, “to make it a marriage or a blessing or even an arrangement. I find the whole thing deplorable, passing women from father to spouse with no say so in the arrangement.” 

“Hermione,” Ron interjected and put his hand on her leg. 

“Enough,” Jean froze the conversation with her single word. “Hermione is going to tell _us_ what is so important.” 

Hermione put down her fork and nudged Ron with her knee. He squeezed her thigh once and she took a deep breath. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Ron squeezed her leg again. 

“I’m about 10 weeks along right now. The Healers say that so far, everything is going smoothly. The morning sickness is almost gone and as long as I don’t over-do it, and work has settled down unlike a few months ago when I was working sixteen hour days.” 

Ron broke in immediately. “And I’ve been with her to the appointments. The Healers are really fantastic, as well as keeping quiet about her condition right now. I’m sure the press – “

“Hermione,” Jean whispered malevolently, “please tell me this is some kind of sick joke.” 

“Why would I joke about being pregnant with your first grandchild?” 

Jean ignored her daughter’s retort and focused squarely on Ron. “Why in the bloody hell would you get her pregnant before you married her? And it’s been years,” she hissed, “and you still won’t give her the security of a marriage ceremony.” 

“It’s not like that, Jean,” Ron threw his hands up first. “I’ve asked, repeatedly. We’re so damn busy – “ Jean waved her hands towards the couple in disdain. “Bollocks, Ron. Prioritites. And yours are completely cocked up. You haven’t asked her in years, at least according to Hermione. Who do you think she is, huh, your concubine, your consort?” 

“We’ve been busy, Jean.” 

“That’s rubbish, Ron. We know you have time and chose other things,” Robert interjected. 

“And what would that be, Dad?” Hermione answered instead. “Ron’s an Auror and he’s off on missions almost monthly, ‘til the last three months. I went to work almost immediately after I left _school_ ,” she said loud enough to be overheard, “and read Law and worked full time and kept working and took a promotion and worked even more. When would I have had the time to schedule and arrange a full-blown wedding, huh?” 

“It’s not right, Hermione, and you know it. We have expectations,” Robert retorted. 

“And they include marriage before children. The child needs both parents, knowing that they are committed to raising them the best way they know how.” 

“And not in a situation at home where one can scarper off at a moment’s notice. That’s what not being married means – waiting for a different opportunity to do a bunk and leave you hanging.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. I love Hermione and she’s one of my best friends. She’s it for me.” 

Jean turned her stare on Ron. “And if that were the case, you’d have already married her.” 

“I asked – twice. Hermione said she wasn’t ready. Then I was off for almost a year on a mission, missing her terribly – and when I return, she’s finished reading Law and gotten a promotion to the Law department – and working sixteen hour days changing things. I barely got to see her and when I did, I wasn’t going to cock it up by asking her to marry me.” He blushed. “We’re content as we are, frankly.” 

“Is that when you went off on that huge feminist agenda, trying to get equal opportunity legislation passed, like we talked about?” Robert headed off his wife before she could get a head of steam up. “You told me a little about that, writing legislation that was inclusive of so many maligned and outcast groups. Is that about the time he’s talking about?” 

“I still am, Dad. It’s not a phase. I’ve been advocating those who are less fortunate, and using my position for an audience for years. Ron,” she looked at her partner next to her, “came home from his mission abroad but I was working so much we barely saw one another. He worked nights and I was busy from seven to ten six days a week. If we were lucky, we could go have lunch with his parents on Sundays. Those months were terrible.” 

“It still doesn’t excuse the lack of wedding, marriage, or even a civil ceremony.” 

“It’s not important to me, Mum.” 

“This is more important than you, Hermione .”


	2. Spicing things up

Hermione flushed the toilet again and stood up to brush her teeth. Her stomach was finally calm but her head was racing around like a rogue bludger. How could she have miscalculated everything tonight? On paper, her plans seemed perfect: tell Mum and Dad about her pregnancy, and demonstrate that her and Ron were happy and excited for the change in their lives.

How could she have mistaken that the one group she depended on to support her, and appreciate the challenges in her life, didn’t. Instead, Dad was disappointed and Mum was beastly over the news. 

“Could I have miscalculated that poorly?” She stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing her features under the harsh lights in their bathroom. “Have I mucked things up that bad, between Mum and Ron?” 

She put her hands on her stomach and felt nothing. But then the Healers said it would be another couple of months before she would. Yes, Mum was right on _that_ point- that there were more important things than her personal agenda for changing the world she lived and loved in. 

She took a small step into their bedroom and saw the mess she’d made when she got home. Clothes were everywhere, along with Ron’s trainers and boots. The wireless was playing in the den and Ron was probably sitting on the couch, drinking his butterbeer and yelling about the bad playcalling, or the officials, or anything else he could be passionate about. 

Hermione stood frozen a moment, fighting back tears that made sense yet were badly timed. Why were her hormones acting up when she should have been a mess earlier, but instead was angry? 

* * *

“So tell me why being married to Ron is more important than my choices on raising this child in our current circumstances?”

“You think marriage is nothing more than a civil contract, do you?” 

“It’s outdated and I don’t agree to it, because the Wizarding world considers women as property, content to be home to birth babies and to keep quiet at the machinations of life in general. I refuse to adhere to it. It’s a waste of my talents, frankly.” 

“I never took you to be a fool, Hermione.” 

Hermione bristled at her mother’s candor. “I’m not a fool, mother. I’m making a stand for what I believe. Ron knows that I support him completely, and he me.” 

“And Ron? Does he agree with your political posturing? Does he completely agree with how you run roughshod over everyone who stands in your way?” 

Hermione turned to Ron and he refused to look at her, concentrating on his rum and raisin bread and butter pudding. He didn’t speak up or look at anyone at the table.

“Looks like there might be a difference of opinion from him, at least,” Jean retorted bitterly. “Maybe you should consider your _partner_ in your agenda, if you have interest in keeping him as a partner and not a poltroon.” 

Hermione hissed. “You leave him out of this, Mother.” 

“I won’t. You treat him not as a partner but as an inferior. Look at him, cowering while we row. I thought he was a man made of stern stuff, not this milquetoast I see sitting with us.” 

“Ron is nothing of the sort,” Hermione yelled at her Mum, ignoring the looks from the men behind the bar. 

“And yet he’s pigeon-hearted by not asking you to marry you again. Or is it _you_ who refuses to consider the ramifications of your choices?” 

“Bollocks, Mother.” 

“Ladies,” Robert tried to cut over the other two and failed. 

“You leave him out of this, mother. Ron’s amazing as a partner.” 

“I’m pointing out that you already have, Hermione. If he’s as much of a paper tiger with you as he seems to me, then your child will run roughshod over him from the start. Is that what you want them to learn, to disrespect their father, since you don’t respect him either?” Her voice dropped to a painful whisper. “You told me he was a lion. I see a man who is nothing more than weak-kneed mouse.” 

“He’s not a mouse. He’s my best friend.” 

“You sure don’t act like it, Hermione.” Jean looked at Ron and Robert. “But maybe he’s accustomed to being treated second best. All I see is you treating him like a cuckold without the infidelity.” 

“That’s enough, Mother.” Hermione stood up to glare at her parents. “We came here to announce something joyous, and asking for your blessing.” She scowled. “I see that you can’t accept our arrangements. How dare you treat my best friend and partner with such contempt!” 

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Hermione. Your narrow-mindedness and frankly selfishness will only hurt you and those you love if you keep this up.” 

“And what’s that, Mother?” She spat out. 

“The day that heart started beating inside your womb, everything stopped being about you, your agenda at work, and all the political bullshit you deal with. Everything now comes second place to that precious child in your belly. If you doubt me, ask Molly, since you seem to value her more than me.” Jean picked up her purse and made her way towards the door, leaving Robert sitting there. 

“Well that as well as I expected.” Robert stood up to collect his jacket and pay the bill with the pounds in his wallet. “I’ll call in a couple of days, Hermione. Mummy needs time to work through everything.” Robert put down a few pound notes to cover dinner. “Tell the nice blokes to keep the change, whatever I’m over on the tab.” He hustled out after his wife, leaving the other two behind at the restaurant. 

Hermione stood at the table, watching her father walk out after her mother and her partner, and best friend, sat looking at the table, refusing to look at her. 

“Well? You too?” 

Ron stood up, his ears glowing bright red. “We’ll go.” He picked up his jacket and waited for her to collect her things. “I’ll take you home.” He dropped a few more pounds on the table, covering their portion of the bill. 

* * *

Hermione slid on the warm jumper over her sleep trousers before putting her unkempt hair in a distressed bun. She’d deal with the mess in the morning when she had time and inclination for dealing with it. Tonight, before she did anything else, she’d talk with Ron and see why he was so distressed.

“What did I say that we’d not talked about before? How did I muck things up?” 

She wracked her brain again, looking for the answer that eluded her. She collapsed on the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands. “Could it be that Ron actually agrees with Mum? Is marriage that important to him? Have I treated him that poorly?” Each idea rattled her head and heart, none giving a sufficient solution. 

She got up from the bed and stepped out of their bedroom and took the three steps into the living area. The wireless was on, playing loud, and Ron was snoring under the noise, an empty butterbeer bottle on the table in front of him. She stood still, watching him sleep peacefully, unlike earlier when he was genuinely upset with her. 

Hermione threw a blanket over his long body and went to the fireplace. If anyone would answer her candidly, Ginny would, without reservation. Her candor and raw honesty was never dismissed or not appreciated. 

She threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and yelled her location. “Ginny! Answer me, please.” 

Kreacher appeared in front of the fireplace. “Kreacher asks if Mistress Hermione’s call is important.” 

“I apologize how late it is, Kreacher. I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?” 

“No Mistress. Madame Ginny is upstairs reading to Master James. Can Kreacher get Master Harry? He has retired for the night but –”

“No, please, don’t wake Harry. I’ll wait for Ginny then.” 

“Kreacher, who's calling?” a voice asked with the mirror on Kreacher’s pocketwatch. 

“It’s Mistress Hermione,” he spoke into the mirror. 

Ginny apparated into the parlor. “Thanks, Kreacher.” She kissed him on the head before he toddled off elsewhere. Ginny knelt down in front of the fireplace. “James just fell asleep and Harry’s in the bed. What’s up?” 

“Quick question so you can get to bed.” 

“Sure. Anything.” “Did I screw things up with Ron by not marrying him?” 

Ginny’s face went stoic immediately. “That’s between you and Ron, frankly. I already told you years ago what I thought.” 

“And I’m asking you again. Did I mess up by not marrying Ron?” 

“You want my answer, Hermione?” 

“I do.” 

Ginny took a deep breath. “It’s fortunate he’s so mad for you. Had you turned me down twice, I’d have been gone a fortnight later. I wouldn’t care how barmy I am for you.” 

“He asked me 30 seconds before going off on a ten month mission. How could I have known?” 

“You should have trusted him, at least to come back. Didn’t you tell me that many times in our room on those bitter Friday nights our last year? You forgave him, eventually, but the one time he needed you, and that security, you procrastinated. He trusted you and you didn’t reciprocate.” Ginny looked over her shoulder for a moment before turning her head back into the fire. “I think seven years’ worth of waiting is entirely long enough. He needs that security, way more than you do. It’s hard for him getting interrogating monthly by Mum and Dad why he hasn’t gotten married, to you or someone else. George is one thing. He eventually wised up and married Angelina, but even that took a long talk with Dad for him to figure it out.” 

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to tell her best friend she was with child but keeping quiet seemed prudent during a firecall at 11pm. “You think I should make him an honest man, then?” 

“Yeah, I do. I think it’ll help with Mum and Dad, too. Maybe Mum will quit trying to rope you into another barn-burning wedding if you get married on your own. Besides, if you do, and get the Minister to marry you on a lunchbreak, it’d do wonders for him.” Her eyes turned sharp. “What’s the sudden change of mind, Hermione?” 

“I’ll tell you when we see you Sunday. G’night.” Hermione pulled her head out of the fireplace and locked it before Ginny could call back. Instead, she turned and saw Ron still fast asleep. 

Hermione stretched her back out and went to the kitchen for a glass of water and to make a pot of tea. Listening to Ron’s snores from the next room told her he’d be out most of the night if she left him there. It wasn’t a bad idea to let him sleep on the couch, not after the row they had on the way home from the restaurant. 

* * *

“Why didn’t you say anything when Mum asked?”

Ron kept walking towards their apparition point two blocks away. 

“Ron, I asked you a question. Please answer me.” 

He stopped but refused to turn around. “You know why,” he said under his breath while cars passed by. 

“No, I don’t. I won’t read your mind because it’s rude and wrong to do so. So tell me.” She stepped in front of him. His face will filled with stormclouds she knew would break shortly. 

Ron held his tongue for a moment. “I think your Mum’s right. It’s that simple. I know you think getting married is rubbish and it’s a waste but I don’t. See, I want to marry you, but you don’t want to marry me. That’s why I won’t ask again.” 

“That’s not true, Ron. I think it’s begging others for approval of our union and that’s not necessary. I’m yours until you’re sick – ” 

“Not necessary,” he growled. “Not necessary? Merlin, you really think this is all about your bloody politics at work? Do you think of anyone else but yourself?” He took off walking again and she struggled to catch up with his very long strides. 

“Ron, stop!” 

“No.” He kept walking and she could almost swear he sped up to get away from her. She ran hard to get in front of him and only when he turned the corner to slide into the apparition area – between two derelict buildings – that she cornered him. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? Merlin, Hermione! How about the fact that your Mum thinks I’m a doormat for you. How about the fact that all of our friends see you taking charge with no consideration for what I think or feel about our arrangements. Finally, you disrespected me back there when you felt entitled to my support when you barely acknowledge all that I do for you.” 

She staggered back into the wall behind her. “You think I don’t respect you?” 

“Sure seems like it, considering everything that’s happened has been a unilateral decision on your part, with no input from me. I feel like I’m nothing more than galleons in our vault and someone to keep house with. It’s certainly not someone to keep you warm at night in our bed.” 

“You work nights, Ron.” 

“Exactly my point.” He stood there and wouldn’t look at her at all, focusing on a spot on the brick behind her head. 

“So you think I’m doing all of this unilaterally, without asking you anything regarding our situation, child, welfare, or well-being?” 

“I’ve been home for two months now and you’ve asked me once about something you couldn’t decide upon. If we go out to dinner, you choose where we go.” 

“You never complain about where we go.” 

“But it’d be bloody nice if you asked me too, I reckon.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Is there anything else,” she hissed at him, “that I should know about, that I need to take into consideration?” 

He snorted. “Well, if you’re going to be beastly about it, it’s obvious I’m yelling at the brick wall, as much as you’re going to listen to what I have to say.” 

“Oh I’m listening. Fire away since I don’t bother otherwise.” She crossed her arms and waited for his input. 

“First off, it’d be nice, quite nice really, if I got to pick where we go for dinner, or even get takeaway. I’m tired of eating at the same three bloody places.” 

“Go on,” she growled. 

“Second, I’m not proposing again for any reason but damn it, it’d be nice if you had something else to call me besides your partner. Merlin, it sounds like we’re working on a bloody potions assignment. I’m more than your partner, Hermione. Even if you say I’m your child’s father, or best friend – something more important than partner. A partner is who I have working with me in the Aurors, not the person who is the most important person in my bloody life.” 

“We’ve been together forever, Ron. And you are my partner, best friend, and lover. Do you honestly want me to introduce you to others as such?” 

“That’s not the point, Hermione. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m a bloody afterthought, including your parents. Your Mum doesn’t respect me and I’ll be arsed if there’s anything else I can do to earn it from her? You’d think after all these years of treating you better than I treat myself, she’d get the idea that I’m not going anywhere unless you’re going to chuck me out the window of our flat.” He stopped and looked at her shrewdly. “You’re not planning on doing that now, are you, since I got you pregnant? I’m more important to you than just galleons, right?” 

* * *

Hermione took the kettle of tea off the burner and took it along with some toast into the den. Ron was still fast asleep and would be for another few hours, she reckoned.

 _Accio Deluminator_ , she cast at Ron’s slumbering form and caught his precious gift in her hand. Three clicks and the living area was bathed in darkness, only illuminated by the residual lights from the street below.

“You’re worth more than all the galleons in Gringott’s. I wish you understood that,” she said to herself in the darkness. 

She took a sip of tea and promptly got lost in the thoughts bouncing in her head.


	3. Service for three

“Hermione?” Ron sat up on the couch, dislodging the afghan that had been thrown across his face.

He looked around and saw that it was close to pitch black in their living area. Crud from the fitful sleep crusted his eyes and he rubbed them hard, trying to see around the room. He turned and saw Hermione sitting in the chair by the fireplace, completely lost inside her head like she did on occasion when she was troubled by the thoughts running rampant. 

“Hermione?” 

She didn’t stir and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was asleep. But he knew better. His Hermione, the one who drove him completely spare and rather barmy, was regardless of circumstances, the one woman he needed in his life. They could row like two banshees and yet she was still there, by his side, regardless of how candid he was with her. But he also had to stand up for himself, at least with her, since he had to prove to her, and himself, he was her equal and her best friend. 

Ron looked at his watch and saw it was half two in the morning. The last thing he remembered was Weatherby scoring his third goal before falling asleep on the couch. 

“Merlin, six hours on the couch!” 

He got up from there and went to the loo before returning to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

“I’ve made fresh tea. It’s in the pot on the table.” 

Ron jumped slightly before looking into the darkness of the living room. “Hermione, you’re awake.” 

“I wasn’t asleep. I was thinking - a lot about our row earlier.” 

Ron brought a second cup into the living room and sat down on the end of the couch, almost touching Hermione’s knees with his boney ones. “Sickle for your thoughts?” He was too tired to be arsed on fighting with her again tonight. 

“It might be a galleon’s worth tonight,” she said to herself. 

“That bad?” Ron poured his cup and sat back to wait. “Look, I’m not mad. I know I said some shit earlier but I was upset. I know you were too.” 

Hermione poised her cup on her stomach, not looking anywhere in particular. “Are you happy, Ron?” 

“Well, yeah, I am.” 

“Even if we aren’t married?” Hermione continued to look away from him, towards the dormant fireplace. 

“It’s not important to you. But I know you’re there for me, and I you.” As much as he wanted to soften the blows for Hermione, he couldn’t do it. She still flinched at his words. 

“That’s not what I mean Ron.” She put down her cup and looked at him, even if both were in shadows. “Are you happy?” 

“I’m content, Hermione.” 

“I thought as much.” She sighed. “So you’re not happy.” 

“I didn’t say that.” He bristled in the darkness at how astute she could be sometimes. 

“Might as well have said it. You said you were content, not happy.” 

“Now look – “

Hermione barreled on over his objections. “And if we did get married? Would that make you happy?” 

“Are you still on about that?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“You’re sore because Mum was in a strop today.” 

“No, she has a very valid point.” 

Ron put his cup down and sat back in the couch. “And you think that is?” He knew it was a can of worms but he felt the need to know. 

“You, Ron. I’ve been so driven to change things for the better I lost sight of what’s important – you, and our child. Mum was right – the baby is coming and whether we like it or not, the child is our responsibility, first and foremost. Not mine but ours.” Hermione moved her body forward to place her cup on the table, too. “But I also can’t shrug off what is vital for the sake of my bloody career and agenda with the Ministry. I’m torn between doing what’s best for you and our child and also how much effort I need to put into my career to make the world a better place for us, and others like us.” 

He heard a sniffle in the darkness but kept back. Hermione wouldn’t appreciate the cuddles until she finished talking. 

“Do I still want to change the world with my bare hands? Absolutely. Will I be able to? I hope so. But I also can’t be so bloody selfish,” she sniffed again, “and I know I need you by my side to accomplish my goals in life, and help our child grow into being a fantastic person, just like their father.” 

“Hermione! You cursed!” 

“Yes and I’ll probably say more.” 

“Alright,” Ron bit his knuckle so she could finish. “So what changed your mind? Why did you change your mind?” 

“I talked with Ginny tonight and basically it was about you and what our child needs, without telling her specifically.” Hermione grew quiet and Ron thought she’d gotten lost in her thoughts again when she sighed. “I didn’t realize ‘til this evening how much I’d hurt you, by thinking that partner meant enough to you. And Mum is right that our child needs both of us, for the best chance of succeeding. Sure, there are plenty of single Mums and Dads, or other circumstances but if I want to give our child the best chance for success we can give them, we should be married.” 

“We already have, Hermione. He’s got you and me, along with the rest of the family. We don’t need to be married to give our child that best chance.” 

“True, but not the one thing that is important: stability. I know you’re going to be here, through thick and thin. I’m going to be there for you, too. But a simple moment, along with a state’s affirmation, will also tell our child that we’re it for one another.” She finally turned towards him and while she was bathed in shadows, she smiled at the happiness dawning across his face. “And it’ll make an honest man out of you.” 

“It’s not like Wizards and witches don’t get divorced. You know that Celestina Warbeck has – “

“I’m not talking about her, Ron. I’m talking about you, and us and what’s best for our child.” 

Ron put his hand out for Hermione. “But it’s not what is best for you, Hermione.” 

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Rubbish, Ron. I’ve been selfish and stubborn in not considering you and what you need from me.” 

“I have all I need, Hermione.” 

“But can you honestly tell me you’re happy?” 

“No, I can’t. I won’t lie to you. But I also won’t ask again. I don’t think I could handle being rejected a third time, not even from you.” 

“That’s fine because I’m asking you.” She smiled in the darkness. 

“Excuse me?” He said, gobsmacked. 

“Yes, Ron. I’m asking you to marry me.” She stepped in front of him before kneeling down between his spread knees. “Ron Weasley, will you marry me?” 

“Uh, Hermione, you sure about that? A wedding – “

“- is unnecessary at this point. Since I’m pregnant, it would be a waste of good galleons to have some ridiculous wedding ceremony. I’d rather spend it on our child, whenever they get here.” 

“Mum and Dad – “

“ - will just have to understand that we want a private affair. We can have Harry and Ginny there, if there’s anyone besides a minister.” 

“When, then?” 

“Monday morning, perhaps? Or if you’re impatient, we can ask Kingsley to do it tomorrow before brunch. Didn’t you say he’s in the office working?” 

“Yeah, let’s do it tomorrow before we go to Mum and Dad’s for brunch.” Ron got up from his seat on the couch and ran into the bedroom. He returned shortly thereafter and produced a black velvet sack. 

“Rings?” 

“Yeah. I’ve had them for yonks. It seems appropriate, considering.” 

He handed the bag over to Hermione first. “Since you asked me,” He cheeked. 

“So I did.” She plucked the larger silver ring out of the sack and looked carefully at it. “Is this Goblin Silver?” 

“It is. I have all the paperwork for it in the vault. Everything is on the up and up.” 

She took his very large hand and slid the ring onto his finger. “Ron Weasley, you make me incredibly happy and without you, I can’t even fathom what I could do without you. Would you do me the honor of saying yes to my proposal?” 

“Yes.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her breathless. “Oh Hermione, a thousand times yes.” 

She slid her set back into the bag. “I’ll put these on once the blessing happens.” 

“Shall I owl Kingsley right now?” 

“No, it can wait until later this morning.” She snuggled into his lap and kissed him once again. “And then we can celebrate at the Burrow before your Mum strangles me for us running off to get married without a ceremony.” 

“Bollocks. She’ll be happy we saved money for the sprog growing inside you.” 

He pulled her closer to snog her deeply, including feeling her bum doing things to him. “You think we can have a small honeymoon now, since we’re probably not going to have an official one.” 

She grinned. “It sounds like a brilliant idea to me.” 

* * *

“Stop fidgeting.”

“It’s this bloody tie, Hermione. I want to take the damn thing off.” Ron poked a finger into his collar to give a little more breathing room in it. 

“And you will, once your mother strangles you with it at the dinner table.” She let go of his tie to appraise his appearance and deemed it acceptable. 

“Is that why I have the bloody thing still on?” 

Hermione offered him her predatory smile. “Well, I could have left you tied to the bed with it this morning.” 

“Oy! Don’t remind me, witch.” Ron turned bright red. “It’s one of my better ones.” 

Hermione smirked. “And besides, I’ve charmed it so she can’t actually strangle you with it.” She stepped close to demonstrate for him with his tie, proving that he couldn’t tighten too much on his neck. 

Ron saw the silver ring on her finger and grinned. “Hey, where’d you get that?” He asked with a voice full of mirth. 

“Oh this?” She flashed her silver band and sapphire ring in front of his eyes, “My husband gave them to me this morning.” 

“Looks rather fetching on such fingers as yours,” he kissed her knuckles once while she giggled. “I admit the silver and sapphire looks amazing against your skin. I think I picked a winner.” 

“No, I did.” She took a step forward and waited for him to join her. “Now let’s see how the family takes the news.” 

They walked up the path from the apparition point down the lane from the Burrow, holding hands and enjoying the unseasonably crisp air. They didn’t talk but shared looks and promises repeated from earlier this morning, including ‘til death do us part. 

Hermione hoped that wouldn’t be at brunch today, considering what they did. 

They made it to the gates of the property and Ron stood still. “Try it. Put your hand through.” 

“It’s not going to happen, Ron. You know that.” 

“And you are carrying our child in your belly. That’s Weasley blood pumping in your veins. You should be able to pass the wards now without problem.” 

Hermione took a deep breath and put her hand out. Previously, every time she put her hand up, the wards on the property wouldn’t let her pass. 

“Ron, look!” Sure enough, she could put her hand through without a problem. 

“See? The blood magic still holds.” He stepped through and beckoned her to follow, which she did with ease now. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” She looked at him with amazement. 

“I reckon so. It’s the blood but also the marriage bonds. Bill explained it to me since I couldn’t fathom it from Dad when he told us kids. But yeah, marriage and or blood bonds will do it.” 

They finished walking up the path to the back door and saw it open, with Molly working in the kitchen on Sunday brunch. Fresh food smells wafted out, greeting them warmly. 

“Mum, we’re here.” Ron pulled open the screen door to the kitchen and was caught almost immediately around the legs by an auburn haired lad with bright brown eyes. “James!” Ron picked him up in his arms and heard his nephew squeal happily. He stepped forward into the kitchen so Hermione could put her coat on the rack behind the door. 

“Hello, Mum!” Ron went to kiss his busy Mum on the cheek and she embraced his one armed hug from her towering son. “I’ll take this energetic doxie in the next room and out of your hair.” 

Ginny came into the kitchen and hugged her brother. 

“And hello to you too!” he held the wriggling child in his arms who now wanted his Mummy. 

“Sorry James but he’s got you. I have to help Gramma in the kitchen.” 

“No you don’t. I’m almost done but you and Hermione can set the table for brunch.” 

They went to work, being mindful of being quiet with the gossip while Molly was present. But within minutes, the table was filled and so were the seats, from James between his parents to Molly and Arthur at the head of the table. Food was passed and a meal shared, along with Ministry gossip and other news of the world. 

“Ron, Hermione, is there something you’ve not told us yet?” Arthur inquired at the head of the table. “Something _important_ you’ve neglected to tell us?” 

Ron saw Hermione nod and put his fork down. “Well, yeah, quite a bit I reckon.” 

“Well, go ahead you git,” George added. Angelina elbowed him hard but baby Fred giggled. 

“Mum, Dad… Hermione and I got married.” 

Hermione stole a glance across the table and saw Ginny smiling. She saw her hands telling her _we’ll talk tonight_. She nodded in agreement. 

“Kingsley performed the ceremony this morning in his office. I owled him first thing and he said he’d be happy to do it. And he did. Show’em Hermione.” 

She put her hand out for the others to see. The silver and sapphire ring sparkled under the light in the kitchen along with the band below it. 

“But you told me a month ago that you weren’t going to propose again. Did you change your mind?” Percy asked from the top of the table. Audrey watched on quietly and Hermione knew she’d be interrogated later on, too. 

“Actually, he didn’t. I did.” She saw the smile blossom on Audrey’s face. 

“Good on you, Granger.” George took a swig of butterbeer. “‘Bout time you made and honest man out of him.” 

“He’s always been an honest man, George. The state now recognizes it.” 

Molly got up to the get the chocolate cake for the gathering. “Now if there’s not anything else, we’ll tuck into pudding.” 

“But there is,” Hermione added before Molly could put the gateau down. Every head turned her way. “I’m pregnant.” 

Forks clattered to the tabletop. “You’re bloody kidding, right?” Ginny erupted. “Why didn’t you tell me, you strumpet?” 

“It’s no joke. I’ve been to the healers.” Hermione looked at her husband and then his parents at the head of the table. 

“So that’s what convinced you to marry, finally?” Molly sat down in her seat and kept her wand in her pocket. “It wasn’t the years of waiting - “

“Molly, that’s enough.” 

She turned to her husband and he put his hand on top of hers to stave off any further objections. He didn’t look at his wife of forty plus years but kept his eyes firmly on his son sitting at the end of the table. 

“Ron, this is what you want, right?” 

“Yes, Dad. Hermione asked me and I said yes. It’s a marriage and a blessing, from Kingsley.” 

“Did you choose marriage, Hermione, because it was prudent, or was it something else?” 

“I asked Ron to marry me because he promised not to ask again. He’s honorable and even if I’m pregnant, it shouldn’t be an issue being held over his head, by his family or society at large.” She patted her belly while Ron held her hand. “And our child needs the security, even if I think a state’s blessing on our union is unwarranted. Nonetheless, I asked Ron and he accepted and we were married this morning.” 

“But Hermione, a wedding - “

Ron spoke up first. “A wedding is a waste of galleons, Mum. We’ll save them that would have been spent on a wedding and honeymoon for our child, whenever he or she arrives.” 

“But I wanted the two of you to have a wedding,” Molly lamented. “All my other children had a wedding.” She looked at the newlywed couple. “I’m disappointed, frankly.”

Ron looked at his wife before turning towards his Mum. “We didn’t need a wedding for me to know Hermione loves me. I already knew. But she did that for me.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Percy upheld the Weasley men tradition so I think we’re safe on that front.” Ron grinned at a beaming Harry. “And it’s not like this sod here didn’t eventually have one.” 

Arthur hoisted his teacup and the others at the table followed suit, including a slightly miffed Molly. 

“To the newlyweds, even if it was only a formality, congratulations. May your marriage be blessed, you don’t go to sleep angry, and that your child, when they arrive is welcomed completely.” 

A chorus of _Hear, Hear_ resonated from the gathering. 

“But there is something else,” Ron added. 

“There’s more?” 

“Well, yeah. Since she asked me, my name is now Ron Weasley-Granger.” Ron grinned. “See, I thought it’d be a terrific way I’d stand out at the Ministry.” He laughed. “I’d mentioned changing my name to Ron Granger but Hermione wouldn’t hear of it. So from now on, I’m Ron Weasey-Granger. And our child will have that new last name, whomever they are.” 

“Bloody Hell!” Harry picked up his butterbeer and chugged it down. “You’re bloody mental, you are.” 

“You just now figured that out?” Ron cheeked back.

Audrey stood. “Well then, let’s have pudding to celebrate. It’s not every day a Granger-Weasley makes their debut.”


End file.
